


The Problem With the Comet Cafe

by Hammsters



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Flirting, Bisexual Lance, Cliche betting, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Crushing, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Is it obvious I don't know how to use tags, Keith and Shiro are cousins, Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, M/M, Mentions of War, No angst though I promise, Roller Skate Related Drama, diner au, hippos - Freeform, shiro deserves better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 02:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11887800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammsters/pseuds/Hammsters
Summary: The problem with the Comet Cafe is that the owners just couldn't seem to hire decent staff. Between one waiter who's too handsome for his own good, a cocky waiter who can't just leave the brooding bus boy alone, and a regular customer with an eye for trouble, Allura gets more than her fair share of headaches just trying to keep the place running.Also known as the diner AU no one asked for.





	The Problem With the Comet Cafe

**Author's Note:**

> I lied, someone did ask for this diner AU. Shoutout to her, and also to a local waiter we used to ogle in high school.

Every small town seems to have one of those quaint little diners. The type with the pink neon sign, and the cute little old woman serving coffee, and the sassy, middle-aged waitress that knows all the customers by name but still calls everyone ‘doll’ or ‘babe.’ As much as the owners might wish otherwise, the Comet Café was not one of those quaint little small-town diners.

The trouble all started when the owner’s niece (who was the boss in every sense except the legal one) had been kind enough to hire a friend of their long-time regulars, the Holts- a returned veteran who’d been struggling to land on his feet. Shiro proved to be an excellent worker- always early, willing to work odd hours, friendly with the staff and customers. The only problem was-

“That man is a god.” The teenage girl seated at the counter- a new regular- never stopped ogling her waiter’s rear end as it skated off to another table. The equally drooly girl beside her nodded in eager agreement.

The only problem with Shiro was that his movie star looks- somehow helped rather than hurt by his scars and prosthetic arm- drew in a large, very young, very… attentive new clientele.

“Is that a new shirt, Shiro?” a woman in her thirties practically purred as he glided up to refill her coffee mug. “It looks good on you.” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if he should ask Allura for a bigger shirt, one that might not fit him so tightly.

“No, ma’am, same uniform as always,” he said with a forced smile. Say what you will about war, there were times he thought it had been a lot less intimidating than half the customers these days. This hadn’t been an issue back in his unit, or when he’d been a skinny little high-school student. His fake smile slipped when he remembered which table of snickering traitors he had to stop at next.

“Oh, Shiro, how do you make your skin look so touchable and smooth?” Katie ‘Pidge’ Holt crooned as he came to a stop at their booth. Her brother, his so-called best friend, was equally merciless.

“Shiro, baby, won’t you bring me some cold water? It’s awfully _hot_ in here,” Matt added with a wolfish wink. Shiro sighed.

“Guys, I’m a decorated soldier.”

“Correct.”

“A Marine, specifically,” he continued.

“Also true.”

“I’ve been shot.”

“Yes, in the ass.”

“So why is _that_ not the most threatening thing that’s ever hit my ass?” Shiro asked somewhat pathetically. Pidge tossed her head back and cackled.

“Speaking of,” Matt said, “coming in hot at 5 o’clock…” Before Shiro could attempt to dodge, he felt the too familiar clash of a metal tray connecting with his glutes.

“Lance!” he yelped in his best attempt at his ‘Dad voice,’ developed specifically in response to their boss, Allura’s, second mistake: Lance McClain. The cocky high schooler was a good enough worker when he wanted to be, but it was obvious he’d only applied for the job to flirt with Shiro’s fan club and join them in worshipping his pecs.

“Hey Shiro,” Lance said as he skated circles around Shiro, backwards. Half the reason he’d gotten the job was because he was more graceful on roller skates than most people were on their own two feet. The other half was his genuine interest in Coran’s mustache grooming process. “Guess who just got a $15 tip.” Shiro narrowed his eyes at him.  
“What did you do?” he asked. Lance grinned and leaned back against his favorite table, which was fortunately empty. Apparently, the lighting from the window at this exact table showed off his skin at its best advantage.

“Just gave a girl your number,” he replied. Shiro spluttered, but could produce no sound to adequately express his horror. Lance laughed, pushed himself off the table, and slung an arm over Shiro’s shoulders. Pidge suspected it was just an excuse to feel his rather well-developed delts. “Relax, dude. I gave a girl _my_ number. They’re not all here for you, y’know. I’m ‘exotic,’ baby,” he added, putting air quotes around the word ‘exotic.’ Matt chuckled, and Shiro could feel the aging process speeding up.

“Hey, dork, you know there isn’t only, like, one white person on this staff, right? Can’t exactly claim the ‘exotic’ thing,” Pidge said, tossing a fry at his face which Lance easily caught in his mouth.

“Yeah, but _I’m_ the only one that speaks Spanish. The ladies love it,” he said.

“ _Lance!_ ” they heard a heavily-accented voice from the kitchen, and Lance looked over his shoulder to see Allura glaring at him through the kitchen’s service window.

“Gotta roll,” he said, heading off toward the kitchen.

“Why are you friends with that doofus again?” Matt asked his sister. Pidge shrugged, and the burger in her hand dripped grease onto the shiny, galaxy-pattern tabletop. Someone would not be happy to see that.

“I admit, he’s charming,” she replied.

In the slightly cramped, slightly stuffy kitchen, Allura had to raise her voice to be heard over the sizzling grill as she tried to walk her uncle through their financial records for the three months since they hired Shiro.

“Well, I don’t see what the fuss is about,” Coran said. “More customers is a good thing, Allura, don’t go wishing them away.” She sighed and raked a hand through her increasingly frizzy hair.

“I know that Coran,” she said. “But we simply don’t have the space or the staff to accommodate the kinds of rushes we’ve been having. I know the rational thing would be to move to a bigger location, but…” Coran clasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“This place meant a lot to your father,” he finished. “We’ll make it work, don’t worry.” It looked like he was about to say something else, but he was interrupted by Lance bursting through the kitchen doors.

“Afternoon, gorgeous,” he greeted Allura with what he thought was his most charming smile. She rolled her eyes.

“You know you’re not supposed to be in the kitchen, Lance,” she reminded him. He put his hands up innocently.

“I’ll be in and out, I swear,” he said before turning to face the cook, who was kind enough to grab his arm and stop him from leaning on a hot stove. “What’s cookin’ good-lookin’?” Hunk raised an eyebrow.

“Jeez, Lance, not your best,” he replied. Lance tried to look affronted.

“Hunk, buddy, you know I _only_ bring you my A-game,” he said. “That was a classic line.”

“What if we start serving people at their cars?” Allura said, speaking a bit more loudly than necessary in an attempt to hint that Lance was interrupting. “Like in the fifties?” Coran nodded, oblivious to her irritation with his favorite worker.

“And we could do outdoor seating in the summer,” he added.

“Don’t look now, Lance, but your boyfriend’s here,” Hunk said, shooting a glance out the service window to the door.

At precisely 2:15, having been released from his weekly Saturday detention in time to relieve the morning staff, Allura’s third mistake came sulking through the door with his collar pulled as high as he could to conceal his face. This was a dangerous place for someone to be related to Takashi Shirogane, and he was well aware of that fact. In Lance’s opinion, however, the Comet Café’s newest bus boy had little reason to fear their predatory customers. The café’s pale pink polos were relatively neutral looking, as far as uniforms go, but paired with biker gloves, black nail polish, and the occasional guy-liner, it looked kind of silly.

“Gross, dude,” Lance groaned. “Don’t make me puke back here, that’s, like, a health code violation.”

“It’s not ‘like’ a health code violation, dumbass,” Keith said lazily as he pushed through the kitchen door and went to clock in. “It is one.”

“Language, number three!” Coran scolded, which wouldn’t have intimidated Keith much if it hadn’t been boosted by a warning look from Allura. He was the new guy here, and it wouldn’t be the first time his attitude got him into trouble.

Allura would rarely complain about any of her employees. Shay, the bus-girl that worked in the morning, was an absolute sweetheart. Hunk was the best cook in town, even if he was a bit too passionate about brunch. Shiro had excellent work ethic, and could hardly be blamed for being just a bit too good-looking for a small town like theirs. Lance could be a bit… too friendly, but he was excellent with customers, and she could respect his determination to save up as much as he could for college. Keith, on the other hand… It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, per se. But she wasn’t sure she even would have thought about hiring him if Shiro hadn’t seemed so desperate.

Keith was his cousin, and he was a really good kid but he’d fallen on hard times. He’d been orphaned while Shiro was in the war and bounced around from foster home to foster home until Shiro was back and could take him in, and he had money saved but it wasn’t easy raising a kid on one salary. It wasn’t easy raising a _kid_ , and Keith really was a good kid, he swore, but he hadn’t had enough structure growing up and a job might be really good for him and normally he wouldn’t ask for favors but it was _Keith_ \- long story short, Allura was a sucker for a sob story. She didn’t doubt that he was the good kid that Shiro insisted he was, underneath all that edge, but that didn’t make him a good worker. He was short-tempered and stand-offish, he constantly fought with Lance, and not to mention, he was the most unbalanced person she’d ever seen attempt to spend a six hour shift in roller skates. He’d broken _six plates_ in the two weeks he’d worked there so far. Allura gave him the option of going without the skates, since he was just a bus boy and he was washing dishes half the day anyway, but Lance had teased him about it and that had been the end of that idea.

That was yet another one of her ever-growing mountain of unforeseen problems. The antagonism between Lance and Keith was immature and entirely unprofessional, but the boys couldn’t seem to help themselves. Even now, on their best behavior in front of their boss, the boys scowled at each other and seemed to be trying their best to nonverbally express whatever insults they were thinking of. Apparently, they seemed to understand each other, because Keith suddenly smirked triumphantly, and Lance sulked out the door.

What Allura didn’t know was that a certain regular of theirs was beginning to grow into a very challenging fourth problem. Pidge Holt may have been the local genius, but she had a natural gift for trouble. If she wasn’t kept busy, she could be a menace. And right now, Pidge’s classes had her very, very bored.

“Hey Lance,” she called as he left the kitchen. She’d been waiting by the cash register to pay her bill, leaving her in perfect position to spot a beautiful trouble-causing opportunity. He swerved to a stop and raised an eyebrow at her. “Wanna make ten bucks?” Both eyebrows shot up now.

“Always,” he said. “But those are scary words from a gremlin like you.” She rolled her eyes.

“I bet you ten dollars you can’t make Mullet blush by the end of the day,” she said. Lance pursed his lips and thought it over. On the one hand, he had no beef with flirting with a dude- he was an equal opportunity charmer. On the other, this wasn’t just any dude. This was Keith Kogane, the living, breathing embodiment of attitude issues, and his rival since the Junior Swim Team Division Conference of 2010. And ten bucks wasn’t a whole lot of money. Hell, he was hardly sure Keith was even _human_ half the time. He could still hardly wrap his head around the fact that he was related to Shiro, an actual real life angel.

“Make it twenty and you’ve got a deal,” Lance said finally. Pidge frowned and pushed up her glasses.

“Fifteen.”

“Seventeen,” he countered, more for the sake of being obstinate than anything else.

“Who the hell bets seventeen dollars?!” she exclaimed, accidentally causing Keith to glance over at them. She shook her head. “Fine, seventeen dollars, you weirdo. I’ll meet up with you after closing and you tell me if he blushed or not. Don’t lie, I’ll know.” He pouted.

“Maybe I’m a good liar,” he said. Pidge rolled her eyes.

“You’re not,” she said. “Get back to work, doofus.”

Lance, of course, had little intention of working. His favorite customers had just settled their bill, and Keith had just gone fumbling shakily past to start clearing up some recently empty tables. He figured his section could wait while he made the easiest seventeen bucks of his life. That was the plan, anyway, until a loud smack echoed through the café, and the customers all went dead quiet.

Keith Kogane had just hit a customer.

It was just on the hand, of course, and the customer- having had one too many of Coran’s famous mimosas- _had_ been reaching for Shiro’s unsuspecting ass, but still. You don’t just smack customers willy nilly. With all eyes on him, Keith looked appropriately flustered. He glanced around nervously for a second, then straightened up, set his jaw, and declared, “Don’t touch that, he still has stitches there!”

Which, of course, was the completely incorrect thing to say.

The café seemed suspended in time for one horrendous second, and Keith seemed blissfully unaware of the bomb he had just dropped. In fact, he almost seemed pleased with himself for rescuing his cousin from further harassment. Then the dust settled, and from it emerged one brave, tween-age voice.

_“Can I see?!”_

And hell broke loose.

* * *

 

What followed were a handful of hours that no Comet employee would ever dare speak of again, except for in quiet, uneasy hours, and in hushed tones. For his safety, Shiro had been rushed off to an impromptu second lunch break, leaving Allura to take on tables of his very disgruntled fans. She determined that Keith’s punishment would be to deal with the mess he made. This shift became a firsthand experience of the kind of ceaseless attention Shiro dealt with on a daily basis. Everywhere he went, customers tried to pull him aside and ask question after question. Why did Shiro have stitches on his ass? Had Keith seen them? Was it a good ass? When he told them, in horror, that Shiro was his cousin, they only became more relentless. Lance who? Keith was now second in their hearts, as Shiro’s beloved younger cousin. Even Lance, the determined flirt he was, couldn’t steal a chance to make his move.

Two hours passed, and one by one the customers trickled out, either because even they had better things to do on a Saturday night, or because they’d become convinced Shiro had been sent home early. Whatever the reason, the Comet staff had never been happier to see every single table in the place empty. Shiro was at last able to emerge from the safety of Coran’s very small office behind the kitchen.

“Finally,” Allura breathed as the bells above the door chimed the departure of their final customer. “Hunk, Lance, Keith, help us straighten up a bit and then the three of you can take your breaks.” Hunk frowned.

“All three of us at once?” he asked. “I don’t mind waiting a little longer if you-“

“Thank you, Hunk, but that won’t be necessary,” she said, yanking skates off of her sore feet. “You and Lance were supposed to take your breaks hours ago, I’m sorry I haven’t sent you already. If anyone comes in, Coran can cook and Shiro and I can cover tables.” Hunk shrugged and joined the rest of the staff in clearing the wreckage.

After six hours of work, and two hours of chaos and being ignored, Lance was as tired as anyone else, but he hadn’t forgotten his mission. Exhaustion be damned, he was winning this bet. He wouldn’t let his jealousy, or even the fact that none of the customers’ prying questions had made Keith blush, discourage him.

“Hey pretty boy,” he said, rolling up behind Keith and catching the poor bus boy off guard. The silverware he’d been gathering clattered to the floor, and he glared at Lance before picking them up. Lance hesitated. He’d really hoped ‘pretty boy’ would do the trick. Improv it was, then. “Enjoying your new celebrity status?” Keith rolled his eyes and shuffled along to the next table.

“Fuck off, Lance, I’m tired,” he said. Lance followed, unswayed.

“Dirty mouth, huh? Never pegged you for the type,” he said. Keith looked up at him sharply.

“Hey, _stud_ , don’t you have a job to do?” he asked. His voice was icy, but Lance still felt his entire respiratory system stall briefly at the word ‘stud.’ Well, that was unexpected. Keith, blind to Lance’s shock, continued, grumbling, “You’re the only one here that can actually move on these stupid things, you should be the one cleaning up.”

And Lance was just shocked enough that he did. For a while, anyway. He swept the floors and even cleared off a few tables before he saw Keith wiping down the counters, and felt newly inspired.

“Mullet,” he called. Keith actually looked up in response to the name, which Lance normally would have given him shit for, but he had to focus. He pointed up at the decorative star stickers Coran had stuck to the wall above the counter just a few weeks before. “Are you those stars? Cuz you really know how to light up a room.” Around them, the staff all paused in their cleaning. Was this really happening? Had Lance actually been rejected enough times that he’d decided to go after Keith? Was he mad with exhaustion? After all, Keith was the one who taken home his coveted first place ribbon for the back stroke in the Junior Swim Team Division Conference of 2010. A person doesn’t get over a loss like that in a day, or apparently even in seven years. Keith, though, was cool as a cucumber. He glanced up at the star stickers, then looked back at Lance in confusion.

“Lance, those don’t even light up,” he said, before shaking his head and going back to his work. Lance just leaned against the nearest table and gave a weak, “huh.” And, insane or not, his coworkers had the decency to pity him.

In the span of an hour, Lance made three more attempts, all of which soared directly over Keith’s mulleted head. In that time, only one customer came in, meaning he had an audience of increasingly confused coworkers for nearly every exchange. Allura had taken to whispering theories about what sort of cruel, teen rom-com type trick Lance might be playing to Shiro, who tried his best to defend Lance in spite of the fact that he could think of no good reason why Lance would suddenly take a liking to his little cousin. Just as Lance was gearing up for a fourth try, Hunk pulled him aside.

“Lance, buddy, are you in there?” he whispered, tapping Lance’s forehead a few times. Lance swatted his hand away.

“I’m right here, dude,” he said. Hunk glanced over at Keith to make sure he wasn’t listening.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked once he was sure the coast was clear. Lance looked at him very seriously.

“I’m gonna break him, Hunk,” Lance said. “I’m gonna make that boy blush.” Hunk looked in pain.

“Why.” He grabbed Lance’s shoulders and shook him. “ _Why_?” Lance shook free of his best friend’s grasp.

“At first, it was just a bet.” His voice sounded haunted, the voice of a soldier who’d just seen war rather than a boy whose advances weren’t being properly appreciated. “Now, now it’s about honor. I have to win, Hunk. I have to beat him.”

“At what?” Hunk asked. “It’s a dumb bet. Keith is smart and all, but he’s also an idiot. He has no clue you’re even hitting on him. Give it up while you still have some dignity.”

“No time for dignity, big guy,” he said, patting Hunk’s shoulder. “This is war.” He tried to turn away, but Hunk grabbed his shoulders again.

“Stop, dude, you’re being ridiculous,” Hunk said. “And what if Keith notices, huh? What do you do after you make him blush?” Lance made a noncommittal sound that sounded sort of like “I dunno.” Hunk plowed on. “What if he finds out you’re just doing it for a bet and it hurts his feelings?”’

“Huuuunk,” Lance whined. “Don’t play the guilt card. Keith’s tough, he’ll be fine. Worst case scenario, he decks me, and I leave with a black eye and he leaves with bruised knuckles. Besides, it’s not like I’m really faking. If I didn’t know Keith, I’d totally use all these lines on him.” Hunk still looked disappointed in him, and letting Hunk down left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Just knock it off, okay Lance?” he pleaded. Lance slumped his shoulders and brushed Hunk’s hands off.

“All right,” he sighed. “I guess it is kind of mean.” Hunk grinned and gave Lance a clap on the back that was just a little too hearty for a person on skates. Lance went careening off and eventually crashed. Once again, armfuls of tableware crashed to the ground, and miraculously nothing broke. It took a moment for Lance, who had squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for a fall, to realize that he’d been caught. He opened his eyes to find them at level with a chest, then looked up into the startled face of his rival himself. They both just stared at each other uncomprehendingly for several seconds until Keith, very awkwardly, broke the silence.

“Can I help you?” he asked. Lance’s eyes widened, and he scrambled back onto his own two feet. Faced with an incredibly awkward situation, Lance fell back on the only defense mechanism he had at his disposal.

“Damn,” he chuckled. “Guess I just couldn’t help falling for you.” The comment earned him very exasperated groans from the rest of their coworkers. Keith just rolled his eyes and gestured to the scattered dishes at their feet.

“…Right,” he said. “Well, since you made me drop all that, you can pick it up.” He stepped over the mess and glided somewhat smoothly over to a booth to finally take his break. Defeated, Lance sullenly picked up his mess.

By the time Lance finished tidying up the last of the day’s mess, no more customers had come in. The staff had taken their usual ‘slow day’ positions; Coran, Allura, Hunk, and Shiro all sat at the counter, where it would be easiest to spring back to their respective work if someone came in. Keith, as per usual, stayed in his booth with his earbuds in. The rest of them had quickly accepted that Keith needed a certain amount of alone time if he was gonna put up with customers all day. Today, though, Lance had begun to feel just guilty enough about the dumb bet that he turned away from the counter and took a seat opposite Keith. His rival glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow, then pulled out one of his earbuds.

“You need something?” he asked. Lance shrugged.

“Just tired, don’t really feel like socializing,” he said. Keith glanced oh-so-subtly at all the vacant tables Lance could have sat at, but didn’t say outright that Lance should get his antisocial time at one of them. He went back to looking at his phone, but was polite enough to leave one earbud out. Confident enough that Keith didn’t desperately want to be left alone, Lance took out his phone and went through his texts from the day- most of which were pictures from his older sister’s day at the zoo with her friends. Lance grinned at one of them. “Hey Keith.”

“Hm?”

“My sister sent me pictures of the new baby hippo at the zoo, you wanna see? They’re your favorite animal, right?” Keith didn’t answer, and Lance looked up to see if he’d heard. He was surprised to see Keith staring at him, his mouth slightly agape and his cheeks tinted a pink that matched their uniforms nicely. Lance blinked, not sure if he believed what he was seeing. “You okay dude?” Keith’s eyes widened, and his blush darkened into a redder color.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “I just can’t believe you remembered that.” Unbelievable. Not only was Keith freaking Kogane capable of blushing fire engine red, but he actually looked kinda pretty when he did. Lance shook it off and tried to play it off like he was perfectly at ease with this turn of events.

“Yeah, dude,” he said. “You used to have one of the older kids draw one on your arm before races, didn’t you?” Keith laughed and nodded.

“That was Shiro, actually.”

Over at the counter, Allura paused mid-sentence to look around the café in confusion. The four of them had been having a very pleasant, entirely work-appropriate conversation, which wasn’t normal at all.

“Where’s Lance?” she asked. Coran pointed behind her, to where Lance had slid into the booth next to Keith and was now animatedly chattering about the animal pictures on his phone.

“Sitting with Keith, surprisingly,” he said. They all stared at the two of them, feeling rather stumped. Keith was smiling, and Lance wasn’t flirting or trying to pick a fight with him. It was a bizarre sight indeed.

“That’s… kind of nice, actually,” Shiro said. Allura hummed in distracted agreement and began to wonder if maybe two of her problems could cancel each other out.

 

When Lance got back home sometime after 7, he wasn’t too surprised to see Pidge sprawled out over his front steps, one hand stuffed in her jacket pocket and the other holding her phone over her face. She spared him a glance as he got closer, but didn’t put her phone down.

“You could’ve gone inside, you know,” he said. “Mom loves you.” Pidge shrugged and shoved her phone in waistband of her jeans.

“I know,” she said. “But you weren’t here to stop her from force-feeding me and her cooking always gives me gas.” Lance crinkled his nose.

“TMI, Pidge,” he said. She grinned and sat up.

“So how’d it go with your boyfriend?” she asked. Lance rolled his eyes and hoped to God she couldn’t see in the dark that he was blushing. Stupid Keith, looking all stupid and cute when he blushed and liking stupid cute things like hippos.

“Couldn’t do it,” he said, shrugging. “I always said the guy isn’t human, there’s the proof.” Pidge snorted.

“Right, because he’d have to be non-human to resist your charms,” she said. Lance shrugged again.

“That’s what I’m saying exactly,” he said. Pidge stood up and studied him for a second. Lance had been friends with Pidge for years now, but he still felt a bit of discomfort whenever she looked at him for too long. She had those eyes that seemed like they saw everything. It was probably the big glasses. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Pidge sighed, then fished around in her pockets to procure a wad of crumpled up cash.

“That should be seventeen,” she said. Lance just stared at the money like she was offering him a ball of pocket lint.

“What are you doing, dude? I said he didn’t blush,” he said. Pidge smirked.

“And I said you’re a terrible liar.” She grabbed his hand, put the cash-wad in it, then curled his fingers around it for him. “Later doofus.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue how to write a coherent plot, but I hope you guys liked it anyways. It's my first time writing Voltron fanfiction, and I'm sure I messed up on writing somebody, so comments would be appreciated.  
> Also, if someone could possibly let me know how to mark this as complete, I'd appreciate that, too.


End file.
